Even If It Hurts
by RegalPixieDust
Summary: When devastating betrayals throw Regina and Robin off course, they realise that the love they've been longing for might have been right under their noses the entire time. Outlaw Queen AU.
1. Chapter 1

Shout out to Brittany! I know I have a gazillion multi-chaps in the works, but I needed a little change of scenery. As always, I own nothing, I just want to play. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

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Regina's house doesn't feel very much like home anymore. Every tiny flaw has been exacerbated in the wake of quite possibly the worst day of her adult life.

The third step on the staircase creaks like a bitch, it has for months now, and she's so sick of the bland tiling in her bathroom. Not to mention the horrible blue wallpaper in her bedroom that does nothing to reflect her as a person. And her bare walls. She has no art or pictures on the wall, all because she let trivial things distract her from actually framing her photographs and displaying them in the places she had already chosen.

Each little thing sticks out so much more now that these tiny inconveniences feel like her biggest enemies now that her heart has shattered into a million pieces. It's scattered all over the hardwood floors that she wishes she picked in the darker colour. Or maybe she just wishes that Graham hadn't insisted...

He was meant to be the one. The love of her life, the person she would grow old with. She gave him _everything_. He held her trust in his hand and took the time to get close to Henry. He promised her a lifetime, and now every ounce of that promise is in pieces on the floor along with her heart.

She didn't see his betrayal coming, not in a million years. She never even imagined that he was capable of cheating on her, though the image of him in their bed with a very naked Marian will forever be burned into her mind as a constant reminder of just how wrong she was.

Her fiancé and her _married_ best friend, like some horrible scene out of a movie.

Marian barely spoke when she dressed quickly and left with a tearful _I'm sorry_ falling from her lips, but Regina couldn't take her eyes from Graham. She blinked a few times, even considered pinching herself just in case, but with every passing second it set in just how real it was.

"I'll be downstairs," drew from deep in Regina's chest monotonously.

And that's where she went. She made her way down the stairs, creaking on the third from the bottom as usual, and fell carelessly against the cream cushions, exhaling the deepest and most pained sigh she ever has in her life.

She starts questioning everything: the stair, the tiles, the wallpaper, and even considers how she's going to strip the bed and toss those sheets into the washer with double the recommended amount of detergent, at the highest temperature setting the washer will allow. It's the closest thing to burning them entirely that she could do; Henry picked them out for her birthday, so an actual flame is out of the question.

When Graham comes downstairs, she's perched on the couch with her fingers clasped in her lap, bobbing her knees up and down impatiently as he paces around in front of her muttering off excuse after excuse. She's staring at him, has been for almost thirty minutes, but she hasn't been able to make out the words he's saying. Every meaningless syllable from his mouth is instead being drowned out by the voice in her head scolding the decision to get these goddamn wooden floors.

He startles her when he kneels down and leans against her knees, grabbing at her hands desperately and apologising like his life depends on it. They're hollow apologies, doing absolutely nothing to absolve the nauseating pit in her stomach.

"I think you should go," she mutters, snatching her hands away, even going as far to rub them on the rough fabric of the couch to rid herself of the feeling of him. Before he can even inhale completely, she cuts him off. "Get _out_."

"Regina, _please._ "

"Don't you dare," she warns. He doesn't get to plead with her, not today, not ever. "We're finished. That's it. Go... And I hope for your own sake that you don't bump into Robin anytime soon."

He lingers for a moment too long, still pressed against her legs, so she stands up quickly with a disgusted groan and pushes passed him towards the kitchen. She plants her hands on the cool surface of the island, takes a deep breath in to settle her bubbling anger, and when she exhales, it's accompanied by a choked sob, coinciding perfectly with the front door as it slams shut.

Hitting her palms against the granite, she reaches for the ring around her finger and rips it off, throwing it across the room, not caring in the slightest where it ends up. Her breath quickens when she starts pacing around the kitchen aimlessly, her hands rubbing up and down on her pencil skirt, reaching up to claw through her long her, all while trying to figure out where she goes from here.

She stares blankly ahead for at least another twenty mintues as she leans uncomfortably against the countertop in the kitchen, her mind rapidly trying to piece out everything she needs to do now.

Obviously, he needs to move out, it's over, but that means packing up his things and then he'll have to come back for them. Henry is gone for the weekend, thank god, but when he comes back she will have to explain everything to him, and he'll be crushed. And the wedding.

 _Shit._

Their wedding. The day they'd been planning for over a year now, the space circled with a big heart on their calendar, it's all come crashing to a mess on the floor; She'll have to cancel everything and call everyone, and she can practically hear the pity in the voices already.

In the midst of imagined phone calls, there's a light knocking at her door, and she almost ignores it. She loathes to think that Graham has come back with some new excuse to throw in her face, but her legs take her to the door regardless.

She sharpens her words before reaching for the doorknob, ready to lash out violently but unexpected to her, the body on the other side of the door is that of the only other person in this town that has a clue how she feels.

"Robin," she exhales, opening the door all the way to let him in, but neither of them move and they can barely make eye contact.

"I, uh…" He holds up his right hand, it's clutching a large white bag with _Granny's_ scribbled on the side. "I thought you might be hungry."

Her stomach drops to the ground as she worries that he doesn't know, that Marian didn't go straight home and confess, but all of that fades when he finally meets her eyes. He's hurting, the pain in his eyes indisputable. "I also brought this," he says, raising his other hand that's clutching onto a very full, very large bottle of whiskey. "I didn't know where else to go."

She wouldn't either. If she had left instead of Graham, she can't say for certain that she wouldn't have sought Robin out. He's her best friend… her _only_ friend now.

She takes a step back, inviting him in silently, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder supportively when he passes. She closes the door and dawdles briefly, resting her forehead against her door and inhaling before pushing off to make her way to Robin, who has taken up residence on the couch where she was planted before.

The _Granny's_ bag is on the floor, probably seeping grease through onto her carpet, but she can't seem to find any energy to care. The same reason why when Robin asks if she has glasses for the whiskey, she takes the bottle form him, twists the cap off and takes a hearty swig of the nipping liquor as she sits on the coffee table across from him.

"I think we're passed that," she hisses through the reaction to her double, possibly triple, shot.

She offers the bottle to him, which he happily takes but he doesn't drink right away. He's staring down at the way his hands are gripping the glass as they succumb into a short silence before muttering somberly, "I had no idea."

"Neither did I," she replies. It never once occurred to her, but why would she when their working hours were so obscurely different, same with Marian and Robin.

"Where do we go from here?" He asks while throwing back a mouthful of the whiskey. Unfortunately, it's one of many questions she doesn't have the answer to. "I don't think I can go home. She was just crying and confessing and all I could do was sit there…like..."

"Like someone was sitting on your lungs?" Regina offers, taking her turn with the bottle while he nods. He scoffs a laugh, one she mirrors and elaborates to a dreary chuckle. "You'll stay here," she says, as a matter of fact, refusing to acknowledge any argument that falls from his mouth. "Henry is with a friend until Sunday night, you can sleep in his room."

"You sure? The last thing you need is someone to babysit."

"I'm sure. You'd do the same for me, and let's face it," Regina stands from the coffee table with the greasy bag scrunched in her fist, "getting drunk alone isn't nearly as fun. Where's Roland?"

He sinks forward, his elbows digging into knees with his face in his palms when he mumbles, "I took him to John."

"Call him," she suggests, "Wish him a goodnight and then we can eat."

Making her way back into the kitchen, Regina sets two plates on the counter and glances back into the living room where Robin is still sitting, staring blankly at his phone. She won't rush him, knows him well enough to know that he'll make the call when he's ready, but it doesn't tame how her heart aches in an entirely new way all of a sudden; this will be Robin's first night away from his son and she can't even imagine how that adds to the sting.

Somewhere between reaching her hand into the bag and unravelling the foil on the burgers, she hears Robin's voice from the other room. At first, it's lifeless, asking to speak to Roland and then morphs into a delicate tone full of love and sorrow that the five-year-old has no chance of understanding.

Trying to keep from eavesdropping, she clears her throat and kickstarts into movement towards the fridge. He'll want mustard no doubt, and she decides she can splurge for added ketchup today. When she turns back around with both hands gripping the condiments, she eyes up the burgers, frowning almost when she remembers that she and Robin first met over a cheeseburger and now that memory will forever be tainted by this day.

Regina was sitting alone after a stressful day in an interview with an adoption agency, when the new British resident, the talk of the town, stealthily eased his way into her booth and introduced himself. He was relentless as he brushed off her daggered looks and eye rolls, and eventually, they were inseparable. He's been right by her side ever since. He was there the day she was able to bring Henry home from the agency, he was there when her father died, he was there was Graham proposed...

"You alright?" Robin asks from the entryway, drawing her back to the moment before sadly scoffing at his silly question. "Of course you're not."

Pushing her back from the refrigerator door where she was slumped, she sits next to him at the counter. Offering him the mustard, she tells him, "I was just thinking about how we met."

Chuckling, he utters, "Burgers and persistence." And they choose to enjoy the peace of their memory for a moment, but there's something nagging at him. He's fidgeting aimlessly when he asks, "Want to know what I can't stop thinking about?" She'd guess, but it could be a plethora of things at this point, "They probably never would have met if it weren't for us." He hastily reassembles his mustard soaked burger, licking some away from the tip of his thumb. "Sodding irony at its finest."

Regina can't help but laugh. At first, it's because of the irony, but very quickly it becomes a painfully bitter exhale and she drops her forehead carelessly against Robin's shoulder. "What do we do?"

She feels Robin's disheartened shrug. "I haven't a clue."


	2. Chapter 2

**I still own nothing and Brittany still cleans up all my mistakes. Thanks to everyone for such a positive response to this story, I'm really enjoying writing it. Let me know how you like the direction and let's see where our faves end up, yeah? Happy reading!**

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Robin wakes to the endless pinging and vibrating of his phone where he abandoned it on the coffee table last night. He's laying on his front uncomfortably, fully clothed and feeling _rough_ ; that whiskey may have gone down smooth, but it sure as hell didn't linger that way. He pushes off the couch, a scratchy groan leaving his throat as every muscle and bone in his body argue with his decision to sit up right.

The whiskey bottle is on the floor just shy of the coffee table and just seeing it brings a wave of nausea. What started off as a few gulps from a bottle turned into a bit more than that and his poor body is reaping the consequences. He can't even remember what time he fell asleep, the whole night is a bit of a haze, and the blanket twisted and caught around his legs leaves him to believe that Regina must've given up trying to get him to Henry's room, or maybe she didn't even try.

The sun is shining brightly through the thin curtains behind his head, the heat baking the back of his neck. His phone pings again, and this time he stretches forward for it, not surprised that he's missed close to thirty texts and a few missed calls from Marian. He switches it to silent mode and flips the phone so the screen isn't visible.

Ignoring the aches in his body, he enters the kitchen and looks around. The clock on the wall reads close to noon, and there's no sign of Regina having been downstairs yet today. There's no smell of strong coffee in the air like there usually would be on a Saturday afternoon, all that's there is their plates still on the countertop, still dirty, and Regina's half eaten burger dropped on one; he tried to encourage her to eat more, but the truth is, even he found it difficult to swallow.

If she feels half as rough as he does, he figures he'll let her sleep in a bit more before checking on her upstairs. In the midst of clearing up the mess, however, a knock sounds from the front door. He stops and stands steady at the foot of the staircase by the front door, listening for any sign of Regina moving upstairs, but when the knock sounds again, Robin decides to answer it himself, and Marian was the last person he expected to see there.

Their surprise is mutual. "Robin…" she breathes softly, either surprised to see him there or relieved it wasn't actually Regina that came to the door. She's still in the same beige cardigan and jeans she was wearing last night and looks as if she slept as well as he did. "I didn't know you were here."

He and Regina had spent a fair amount of time last night drunkenly determining what they would say to Graham or Marian when they next saw them, but none of his rehearsed words seem to have stuck, and they stand face to face in an awkward bout of silence until Marian mutters, "I came to see Regina."

He scoffs in response, "I'd imagine she has seen enough of you recently, don't you think?"

"I came to _apologise_ ," she stresses, crossing her arms awkwardly across her chest, gripping her fingers in the wool of her cardigan; she does that when she's nervous. "I've been trying to apologise to _you_ all morning, but you haven't been answering my calls."

"I was sleeping."

 _Barely_ , he thinks. The whiskey might have knocked him out, but it was a restless evening. He knows she's been texting and calling, but the thought of reading her messages made him feel nauseous on top of the hangover.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she says softly, but he can't believe his ears, scoffs again almost immediately. "I should go," she takes a step back, muttering, "I shouldn't have come here," before making her way down the path towards her car.

There's one particular question on his mind though, one that probably isn't even that important in the grand scheme of things, but he calls it over the short distance between them anyway. "How long?"

Marian stops just shy of the sidewalk and turns back. "Does it matter?"

He guesses it doesn't matter. But still, curiosity is eating at him. "How long, Marian?" Her sigh is deep, one that makes her height drop almost an inch, and his stomach drops with it.

"Almost a year…"

For a second, he thinks he's hallucinated, shakes his head swiftly once as he attempts to process her answer. "Almost a year," he repeats solemnly, struggling now to keep his stewing frustration from becoming something more. He steps outside, closing the door quietly behind him and stands directly in front of Marian, and in a pained whisper, he asks, "You've been cheating on me for almost a _year_?" He's in shock. "I'd been steadying myself in case you'd been seeing him for a month or two, but a _year?!_ "

Marian can't look him in the eye, instead she turns away with a tearful _I'm sorry_ and begins to walk again, but he follows, against his will entirely it seems.

"Marian," he pleads sadly, and he reaches forward for her shoulder, something that twenty-four hours ago would have been completely normal, but it's not anymore, not even close. "God, Marian, why did you do this? Never mind the way you've ripped my heart out of my chest, but to sleep with your best friend's fiancé? She was your maid of honour. She held your hand when Roland was born. You have lunch with her and the boys every Sunday. How could you possibly look her in the eye every week while doing something so dishonourable behind her back? How could you come home to me like everything was fine?" He's rambling at this point. Whether it's residual whiskey effects or just his frustration is unclear, but it's a serious case of word vomit nonetheless.

"I made a mistake, Robin," she says, dropping her face into both hands with a sigh, only to look back at home with a shrug that is far too nonchalant for him, as if being caught was never something she considered to be on the horizon. "I made a mistake."

"It sounds like you've made a number of mistakes if this went on for almost a year," he bites back. The anger in his stomach has begun to bubble fiercely, and to avoid saying anything in the spur of the moment, he sighs heavily, only to take a deep, calming breath and steps back from the end of the path. He closes his eyes, finds his centre, and breathes.

"If you think you can come into this house and make everything okay over a cup of coffee, you're sorely mistaken. Coming here was the wrong move."

"I know that now," she mumbles, staring at the concrete slab beneath her feet. "I made a bad call… _another_ bad call."

"Go home, Marian," he says, fighting with the lump that is growing in the back of his throat and against the sob that is so desperate to claw its way out. "Just… go home."

She nods and climbs into her car as Robin watches. And for whatever reason, his mind wanders to the car itself; who does it actually belong to? He's pretty sure it's in her name, so he's going to need another car to get to work.

Oh shit, work…

It's safe to say that waltzing into a shift with the man who screwed his wife and left his best friend heartbroken is definitely not something that's happening today. Luckily, David will understand, he's good like that. And Saturdays are usually quiet at the Sheriff's station, at least quiet enough to not merit three bodies in the building.

"Robin?" Marian calls over from her car, and she's fidgeting with the collar of her cardigan, nervous again. "Where's Roland?"

"He's with John."

"May I see him?"

Her question lays on him like a blanket of guilt. And he nods, of course, he does. "Absolutely. You're his mother," he affirms sincerely. He steps a little closer to their - _her_ \- car to avoid anyone overhearing him, creating the beginning of whatever rumour this town can conjure. "You may have shattered my heart and soul… but you are an excellent mother, and I will never keep you from seeing our son."

She mutters a sad _thank you_ and nods politely as she rolls up her window and leaves the short length of Mifflin Street, leaving Robin hungover and alone with a future that looks rather bleak in his mind.

When he's back inside, he listens for any sign of Regina upstairs. He's assuming she's still in bed, and she has every right to be. Since the moment his eyes opened begrudgingly, he immediately wanted to turn away from the world and take a few deserved hours to wallow.

On his way upstairs, the third stair creaks and he stops, remembering how Regina spoke about it with such bitterness after her eighth or ninth swig of whiskey. He steps down again and listens to the scratchy screech one more time.

He'll fix it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but there's not a chance in hell that he's going to let that sound be a constant reminder of yesterday.

The reminders are everywhere. When he gets to her bedroom door, he notices that it's wide open, and Regina isn't inside. The room is messy, like someone had thrown everything from the bed to the floor. And then it hits him that Regina probably hasn't set foot in here since she caught Marian and Graham together.

It makes sense. The comforter has been dropped hastily on the floor by the foot of the bed, the pillows are messed about the mattress, a bra that he recognises as Marian's by the dresser… it's a room in shambles.

He can't take a step inside, something about the feeling in his gut, so he turns away and notices that Henry's bedroom door is cracked open, which would be unusual on any day, but especially this morning as he's away. Robin's curiosity wins and he takes a peek inside and finds a still sleeping Regina curled up in the small bed.

She's still wearing what she had on last night, spooned up against one of Henry's pillows.

It's all still so surreal. He looks upon his best friend and his heart aches so agonisingly, the heaviness of Graham's betrayal weighing on his shoulders as he ponders aimlessly for ways to make her feel better. And then everything comes crashing down until he's rendered nauseous and wobbly at the knees when he realises that he's in the exact same position. That his wife and friend had spent so, so long sneaking around behind his back.

A _year_.

Regina will be even more crushed when she finds out that not only was she cheated on, but it went on for so long right under her nose. In her house, in her bedroom…

He leaves Regina to sleep a little longer and goes back to her bedroom, only this time he passes the doorframe and as if on a mission, he starts clearing up the mess.

He rips the covers from the pillows, sheds the sheets from the bed and comforter, and marches straight downstairs - the creaky third step cheering him on along the way - and bundles everything together in the washer. He could throw them out, questions if maybe that is what Regina would rather, but Henry gave her these sheets. They're soft and satiny, and a refreshingly gorgeous shade of light blue that Henry knew she absolutely adores. So, Robin pours in some detergent and turns on the washing machine to clean everything thoroughly and trusts that Regina will make the final decision later on.

Back upstairs, he starts piling things into a trash bag. Marian's bra is definitely the first garment in there, followed by a scattering of socks and a jacket, and when Robin feels like he's being watched from over his shoulder, he notices a very tired looking Regina Mills hovering with her arms crossed over the front of her, now very creased, shirt and sleep-tousled hair.

She doesn't say anything, walking passed him and picking up a freshly folded pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from the confines of her dresser before disappearing into the bathroom. She looks exhausted - physically and emotionally - and if her hangover is anything like his, she's suffering.

She changes quickly, leaving her bathroom again not long after entering, only now she's stripped out of her work clothes from the day before and is in her relaxed outfit, even pulled her hair into a messy bun that is gathered loosley at the top of her head.

"I'm going back to bed," she croaks dejectedly, shuffling with heavy steps back out into the hallway. "You coming?"

At first, Robin isn't sure if her invite is sincere, especially when she turns back in the direction of Henry's room, but he follows nonetheless, leaving the black bag close to empty and open in the middle of the bedroom floor.

Regina's already crawled back into Henry's bed by the time he gets there, staring up at the ceiling dismally, and it's only when she scoots her body to the far right side of the small mattress and pats beside her that he dare step inside her bubble.

They lay side by side, arms and legs touching all the way down the middle.

"How did this happen?" Regina croaks finally, the first words she's said to him all day.

"I really don't know," he replies, staring at the same plain white ceiling that has somehow stolen the attention of them both.

"I keep replaying moments over in my head, trying to pinpoint where I messed up." Regina sighs next to him, twitching her fingers lightly until they brush against his and they link together.

"This is a fucking mess..." Robin gripes, tightening his squeeze on her hand, "...but you did nothing wrong. Everything is just…"

"A fucking mess," she repeats dimly before turning her head on the pillow to look at him. "I talked your ear off so much last night. Are _you_ okay?"

Is he okay? That's the million dollar question. There are moments where he's distracted with other things, like cleaning up, where he thinks he could be okay, and the other moments are like being trampled on by the realisation that nothing will ever be what it was before.

"I haven't cried yet," he confesses, all while tears are building up in his eyes. He's not distracted anymore and everything starts piling on, one thing on top of another until it feels like his lungs are being crushed, and only seconds after his concerned confession, his head finally catches up to his heart and the stinging behind his eyes becomes too much.

A delayed sob rings through Henry's room. He pulls his hand away from Regina's to cover his face. He knows that they are quite literally both in the same sinking ship, but for whatever reason, he feels like adding any more stress onto Regina's already shitty situation is the worst thing he could do. Then he's muttering off a string of apologies between sobs and wiping his eyes.

Regina tucks herself against him, her head firmly against his chest and she wraps are arms around him tightly, lulling him through his suddenly explosive round of emotions, and he's still apologising, over and over. "You have enough to deal with," he weeps softly, but he's calming down with the help of Regina's very comforting hand rubbing up and down his arm.

"We have been tossed off this ledge together," she mumbles against his chest, her breath warming him through the cotton of his shirt. She looks at him with sad, gloomy eyes, resting her chin against his sternum. "We both need a parachute right now."

His sobs simmer down, almost as quickly as they came on, as he concentrates on the feeling of her warm hand against his skin. It's a constant movement that gives him something to focus on, something to distract him again.

"Mom?!" Henry's voice echoes from downstairs before there's the loud slamming shut of the front door.

Regina sits up quickly, throwing herself over Robin to stand upright, and she looks down with a sense of confusion that they equally share - Henry wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow.

"Mom?!" Henry shouts again, climbing the stairs with stair number three indicating just how close he is.

Robin stands up and they both stare at Henry's bedroom door, just waiting. "What do I tell him?" Regina asks quietly, barely a whisper.

Wiping any lingering moisture from his face, Robin realises that this parachute agreement is dependent on them working together. He is her parachute and she is his, and right now, she needs that support, so he takes her hand as a promise that they are together in this.

"We tell him the truth."


	3. Chapter 3

**_Hope you're still enjoying. As usual, a huge thanks to Brittany, I own nothing but my feelings, and please let me know what you think!_**

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 _Twelve Years Ago..._

" _I'm nervous," she muttered, fidgeting with her fingers underneath the booth at Granny's._

 _Her knees were bobbing like crazy, and from across the table, Robin laughed, nothing mean spirited, just the usual reaction to her constant worrying about something he was so sure was going to work out._

 _Robin stood from his side of the booth and scooted around to hers. "Move up," he said, squeezing in beside her and draping his arm up and over her shoulders. "Now, we've gone over this."_

" _I know, I know," she rolled her eyes, but alas her nervous knees kept up their own beat. "Just… what if I'm getting my hopes up like last time?"_

" _Last time there was a mix up with paperwork," Robin reminded her. "This time it's perfect. You have quadruple checked, I've double checked, and even your mother has had her paws on it." He squeezed her into his side tightly and pressed a settling kiss onto her temple. "You are going to kick arse in this interview and you will get your little one." Regina turned to give him a soft smile and tried her best to believe him. "I promise," he nodded sincerely. "Say it."_

 _She rolled her eyes again. He always does this. "I am going to ace my interview and get my family."_

" _Paraphrasing works, too," he smirked, using his free hand to hold her closest knee down. "Now take a page from your students' book…" his smirk grew, "... and chill out."_

 _Regina snorted, batting away his hand playfully, and then her heart lurched into her throat. The bell above the main door sounded, and Regina snapped her head to see if it was the lady from the agency having arrived twenty minutes early. But it wasn't._

 _Nope, though the new customer in Granny's seemed to have caught Robin's eye. "Close your mouth," she laughed, shoving his chin up._

" _Who is she?" he asked, all but gawking at Dr Whale's most recent hire._

" _That's Marian," Regina told him, "She works at the hospital, a new nurse I think. She's been here for over a month and comes here almost every Sunday for lunch. How have you not noticed?"_

" _I've been a little busy," Robin scoffed, feigning hurt that she could have ever forgotten about his mission for the last six weeks. The overtime he had been clocking was close to insane, but that's what happens when you put two friends up against each other for a job. Robin and Graham had been neck in neck for a promotion to a deputy sheriff, and by Friday they would know who got the job. It was a big week for both of them, it seemed._

 _It dawned on her then that he'd taken the afternoon to come and sit with her and her persistent nerves. That's how he always manages to calm her down; he'd be there for her anywhere, anytime, no questions asked. She was about to tell him to get back to work, but he's still staring off into the distance, doing the worst job at being subtle._

" _Go and talk to her," she suggested, but he shook his head._

" _I'm yours until your interview," he said._

" _They'll be here in fifteen minutes," she shrugged. "I'll survive. And besides, watching you fail at flirting could be my pre-interview entertainment."_

" _Wow..." His mouth dropped open and he bumped a playful fist gently against the tip of her nose._

 _She batted him away again and began to push at his torso until he was sliding out of the booth. "Go," she whispered through strained teeth - he was resisting her push. "She could be the love of your life for all you know."_

* * *

Regina wakes to the unceremonious metallic clanking that she recognises instantly as her washer. She'd never realised quite how much you could hear it from Henry's room, and she can feel its soft vibrations, giving the mattress the tiniest of shakes.

For a few blissful seconds, she isn't phased by it, but eventually recollection fights through the thick, whiskey-induced fogginess and she remembers everything about last night: coming home earlier from work, hearing a strange noise upstairs, having her life shattered, and drinking away every ounce of pain.

She groans as she sits up in Henry's bed and pulls away from the duvet that's twisted between her legs. She stands against her body's will, straightening out the sheets and propping the pillows back where they're meant to be.

Somewhere between Henry's room and her bedroom, she has decided that she was _not_ ready to stand up quite yet. She's at least another hour or two of resting and letting this hangover pass before going about anything today.

She stops just shy of her bedroom, peering inside as Robin is on his knees, reaching around the floor of the room for the things Graham and Marian had felt unnecessary to take with them in their moment of panic.

When Robin looks up, she isn't sure what to say, or even if she should say anything. And she must look awful, if the concern on his face has anything to stay about it. Wordlessly, she gathers the comfiest sweatpants she can find and a plain black t-shirt - anything to get out of this horribly creased blouse and pencil skirt - and changes quickly in the bathroom, as quickly as she can anyway, her balance is far from stellar.

Regina almost never puts her hair up, not for any particular reason more than personal preference, but the small collection of hair ties by the sink calls to her in this instance. She collects her shoulder length hair and ties it all up high and haphazardly into the messiest of buns atop her head, really not caring too much about how it looks.

Robin's still on his knees gripping a trash bag on the floor when she leaves the bathroom, and Henry's bed calls to her from the other room. She needs to lie down, and she absolutely needs to get out of this goddamn room.

"I'm going back to bed," she says, walking passed him with heavy, shuffled footsteps.

That's when she notices the lack of sheets on her bed. He's all but stripped the room bare of any reminder and her heart sinks a little. It explains the washer rumbling from downstairs, and as always, he's going out of his way to distract himself.

Thirteen years of friendship later and Regina knows better than anyone that this is a clear sign of just how much he's hurting. Robin will scrub the entire house down if it keeps him from really thinking about it.

"You coming?" she asks as she leaves the room.

It's merely an offer, one that deep down she hopes he'll accept, but she won't push. He's never responded well to that. Not ever.

She's happy to see him in Henry's doorway after she's crawled and planted herself across the top of Henry's bed. She squeezes herself as far to one side as she can and pats the mattress next to her, and when he lays beside her, she exhales deeply, staring high above at the ceiling.

Her mind keeps wandering to the same thing: Where the hell did this all go wrong?

She's trying to recollect their times together - game nights or just casual lunches with the kids - but nothing ever seemed out of the ordinary. Marian would lay her head on Robin's shoulder and Graham would always have his fingers linked with Regina's. Was it a mistake that went a bit too far, or were they having a full blown relationship behind everyone's back? Was it malicious or just something that just… happened.

She and Graham had experienced a bit of a lull in their intimacy lately, but she chalked it up to the stress of planning the wedding and their work commitments. Graham switched to night shift for Robin so that taking care of Roland could be split between Robin and Marian with ease; she'd work nights at the hospital and care for Roland after pre-school and Robin would work days and watch Roland in the evening. It seemed like the perfect set up.

Only it appears it was just as helpful a set up for their affair as it was for their child care plans.

"How did this happen?" she asks, having to force her voice through the dryness of her throat.

"I really don't know."

 _Maybe he was lonely_ , she thinks. The end of the school year is always time consuming and the last couple of months have been pretty jam packed. Sometimes she'd not even see Graham before he had to head to the station and only speak for a minute or two in the mornings before she had to head to the school.

"I keep replaying moments in my head," she confesses, "trying to pinpoint where I messed up." She links her fingers with his where their hands rest between them.

"This is a fucking mess," he whines, and rightfully so. And then he squeezes their linked hands, and assures her that, "...but you did nothing wrong. Everything is just…"

"A fucking mess," she whispers for him. It's then that Regina turns her head on the pillow, catches a glimpse of her best friend in silent pain. "I talked your ear off so much last night," she tells him, frowning ever so slightly at how much she sees herself in his blank stare up at the ceiling. "Are _you_ okay?"

The way he mutters off a sad _I haven't cried yet_ tugs at her heartstrings, and the only thing she knows to do when his chest erupts with a sob and he finally lets his walls crumble is roll over on her side and tuck in close to his. She plants her head on his chest and stretches her arm over him to comfortingly stroke up and down the length of his arm.

He's resisting her slightly, much like Henry has been lately in his near teenage response to a caring touch, but eventually relaxes as much as he can, but not without reprimanding himself with endless apologies, insisting that she already has enough to deal with without him losing his composure.

Regina turns her face against his chest, and mumbles against his shirt, "We have both been tossed off this ledge together." Resting her chin on him, she waits until he inhales deeply. "We both need a parachute right now."

She lays with him a while longer, listening against his chest as his breathing shallows and the rhythm of his lungs becomes even. He sighs deeply when she starts to drag her hand up and down his arm, starting at his wrist all the way up until her fingertips slightly slip underneath the hem of his sleeve, then all the way back down again.

She has no idea where his mind is. It could be anywhere. But for these five minutes of just breathing and silence, Regina finds herself jealous of him. She hasn't cried either, but unlike Robin, there's no outburst of sobs when she realises. She's no idea how her mind can be so blank and so full at the same time.

"Mom?!" Henry's voice sounds from downstairs and the pair spring from the bed. "Mom?!" His voice rings out again.

He's not supposed to be home. She's supposed to have another day to figure out what she was going to do. "What do I tell him?" sShe asks Robin, staring at him with a face full of panic.

He takes her hand and squeezes it tightly. "We tell him the truth."

The truth. Okay. That's simple enough.

She can hear Henry climb the stairs, still calling out for her, and then his bedroom door swings fully open and Henry tosses a very full backpack nonchalantly at them both, probably aiming for it to land with a bounce on his bed. Robin catches it quickly with a deep rooted _oomph_ and Henry jumps a little.

"You scared me," Henry mumbles through a nervous laugh, holding his hand against his chest. He suddenly straightens up and clears his throat, "Uh…" He points at Regina, then looks at Robin. "What are you doing in here?"

Regina looks at Robin, then to Henry, then back to Robin with her mouth agape with zero explanation coming to mind. She knows she should be upfront and honest, but how the hell is she supposed to tell her twelve year old that her fiancé and his Aunt Marian got a little handsy and everything's ruined.

"Henry…" Robin starts softly, dropping the backpack to the floor, and Regina gives him a look that she's sure screams a less than subtle _help me_. "Your mum was just getting your sheets for the laundry," he lies, giving her an out that she would never have been able to conjure up on her own.

"Oh," Henry nods towards Regina. "That explains your outfit. If it wasn't laundry day, I would have thought something was wrong."

Henry laughs a little, proud of himself for his little tease, but Regina's heart is pounding so hard in her chest that she can't muster up a chuckle, not even a smile. She hates lying to him. It's something she very seldom does, but she can't do this right now. She can't do it.

"Mom?" Henry asks, concerned, the cute little crease in his forehead showing his eyebrows narrow her way, and Regina's wall comes up again and she just stares. "Robin?"

"Why don't we give your mum a minute, kid," Robin walks with Henry back out into the hallway, "and we will go and gorge ourselves on a sugary lunch that she'll never approve of."

Regina exhales heavily when Henry is out of earshot and drops her face to her hands, and for once it's not even about the prospect of her son munching on a mountain of processed sugar.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," she whispers to herself solemnly, frowning deeply as she reaches for Henry's pillow and pulls the case from it.

* * *

 _Regina called Robin the second she got home. It was a quick and whispered call asking him to get to her house as quickly as he could, followed by a rushed but very stern warning that if he rings the doorbell she'd kill him with her bare hands._

 _He didn't, thank God._

 _He snuck inside and stood by her side in the archway into her living room, the place she hadn't been able to move from for a good thirty minutes, and he muttered a very breathless, "Holy shit."_

" _I know," she replied as they stare ahead at the small human wrapped in a blanket and nestled comfortably in the car seat they had picked out together last week._

 _She picked the baby up earlier that afternoon and drove home at the slowest speed she could possibly go without stopping. Robin had insisted on going with her, and she wished she had accepted his offer, but as usual, her notorious stubbornness had her refusing immediately._

" _He's so little," Robin gushed, daring to take a step into the living room. He bent down and grazed the softest touch across the baby's small rosy cheek and turned back to her, the slightest glimmer of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. "Regina, you have a son," he smiled widely, his voice soft as if he knew that she couldn't quite believe it yet._

 _He stood carefully, giving Regina the gentlest of squeezes to her shoulder. "He's beautiful."_

" _Henry…" she smiled, "Henry Mills."_

" _If the world deserves anything, it's another Henry Mills," Robin whispered sincerely. "Your father will be thrilled. Have you called them?"_

" _No," she shook her head. "I called you." Henry stirred from his cocoon, making all the sounds a small baby should (she knew that), but still she couldn't breathe until he settled back into his slumber. "God, I have no idea what I'm doing."_

 _Robin chuckled lightly, looping a strong arm over her shoulders and dropping a chaste kiss to the side of her head. "You just have to play it by ear," he told her. "Have you eaten today?"_

" _Nope," she shook her head again. There was no way she could stomach anything with the nerves filling her tummy._

" _Burgers?" he asked, and, of course, she smiled and nodded._

* * *

Regina had stripped the entire bed by the time Robin came back upstairs.

"He's having cereal for lunch," Robin smiles shyly. "I hope you don't mind, it was the best I could do on a whim."

"It's fine." Regina picks up the heap of cotton and holds it close to her chest. "Thank you," she says, "I just froze."

"You weren't expecting him," he says understandingly. "But he knows something is wrong."

"Of course he does," she laughs softly, popping her lips lightly. "What should I expect when he spends so much time with the person who can read me before I even know what I'm feeling?"

"You can't blame me for his good intuition," Robin grins slightly.

"No blame" she promises and she takes a deep breath in. "How am I supposed to go down there and break his heart?"

Robin takes the sheets from her and tucks them under his arm. "I wish I had an answer for you. I wish I could tell you that everything is going to go well and be alright. But we have a motto, don't we? And it's got us through pretty much everything so far."

Regina closes her eyes, almost scolds his sliver of optimism in a time like this, but he's right.

"We play it by ear," she says, exhaling a stressed breath.

"We play it by ear," he nods supportively. "Come on," he offers her the first step out of Henry's room, stepping to the side and letting her move in front of him.

Together they walk downstairs, and Robin tells her that he'll take care of the sheets and will give her some time to talk to Henry, that he should probably check in with work and Roland anyway. And Regina makes her way to the kitchen with nothing but the truth up her sleeve, not even close to being prepared for the heartbreak that is about to erupt.


End file.
